


Falling

by Sleepingalong



Series: The Realms of Life [2]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Char Kole - Freeform, Gen, Original Character(s), Promise, Spirits, and creating, and dying, something with shadows, spirit worlds, the others are normal, yes that's her name
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-06
Updated: 2020-01-06
Packaged: 2021-02-27 15:20:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 874
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22149304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sleepingalong/pseuds/Sleepingalong
Summary: For she was climbingShe is now fallingForever waitingNever reachingHow one moment an feel like a fairytale and the next can be your own personal hell.
Series: The Realms of Life [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1584988





	Falling

The church is based in a charming old castle. A few hundred years back, a duke used to live here. Duke Dickingson, they called him. I think his original name was Humphrey Leopold Dick von Dalinson the third, but he wasn't a well-liked man. In the end, the townsfolk killed him and offered up his castle to the church. It used to be a glorious castle, but in the years that followed its maintenance had fallen short. Nowadays only the throneroom and some of its staff quarters are used by the church.  
The priest warned me when I told him I wanted to climb one of the towers looking out on the garden. Not all the walls there would be stable, but hey, a Kole never backed down from a challenge.

Carefully climbing the stairs, one hand on the wall and in the other my camera, I admire the beautiful structures and artworks decorating the tower. I really do feel like a princess in here. Rapunzel. I've always wanted to be her. The way she saw the world, so full of wonder...  
Needless to say, I snap a few pictures of the castle itself before actually making my way up to see if I can get some cool shots from above. I try not to think about the loose tiles that gently shift when I lean too heavily against them or the crumble steps. Instead, I close my eyes and imagine myself in a beautiful dress, my hair flowing loosely behind me as I majestically make my way up the staircase. Far below me, I hear the laughter of the other guests, their murmurs and drunken songs echoing off the cold stone. Music plays and I imagine couples waltzing over the dance floor. Waiters walking around, holding silver serving trays filled with flutes of champagne and little hors-d'oeuvres. It's a royal wedding and the kings are celebrating the joining of their kingdoms. 

A few minutes into my silly little fantasy I feel a draft that forces me to open my eyes and stabilize myself against a wall. It seems more light up here, which is surprising since there are no windowsills. Walking up a few more stairs makes me realize why there is a draft though. The roof of the tower has crumbled down completely, apart from a few very sturdy beams that somewhat resemble the shape of a roof. 

The view from the tower is absolutely beautiful. It reaches far beyond the fields surrounding our little town. Far beyond the nearest cities. I can see the river where I almost drowned as a child. I can see the playground where I broke my leg in two places. I can even see my grandma's old berry bushes that once held me against my will for a whole day (I fell into them and couldn't get out without help).  
The opening in the walls is not directly above the garden where the party is held and makes for a very interesting angle on the photographs. I lay down, not caring about my pale green dress being absolutely ruined (Brendon will have my head later though), and shimmy forward. I must confess, hanging halfway out of an unstable building is not the strangest thing I have ever done to get the photos I want. It may, however, be one of the most dangerous things.  
The stones below me shift and I swallow thickly before bending down a little lower, hooking my foot around a beam just to stabilize myself. "One more photo. Just one good one," I mutter to myself, pointing the camera at the fruit tree where my brother and his beautiful husband have sneaked off to share their first glass of champaign together in peace.

After getting the ten-thousand-and-one shots that I wanted, I slowly pull myself back onto a safer platform. It's not very ladylike and I curse when I get another long scratch on my arm. It's worth it, though. So worth it. I'd do anything for my baby brother.  
Standing up, I brush the dust off my dress as well as I possibly can, silently thanking whoever made sure I did not fall to a horrible death. In a whim, I pull my phone from my pocket (a dress with pockets! Pockets!) and snap a quick shot of myself with seemingly no wall behind me. I smirk before sending it to my friends with a caption of "I believe I can fly".  
Before I can put it away, a gush of wind flows through the tower, throwing me off balance.  
I stumble.  
My phone hits the floor.  
My hand tries to reach a beam but grasps nothing but air.  
And then I'm flying. It feels like I'm floating even. The sky above me is clear, not a single cloud dares to show its face. Everything has stopped. 

And then I'm burning. And the burning doesn't stop. The flames around me burn a bright blue and I wish I could make a joke about saltiness, but all I can do is scream in agony. The fire pulls on my skin, it burns my clothes, it covers my eyes. Everything keeps burning until it finally surrounds my heart. 

And then there was nothing.


End file.
